In the Wee Small Hours (A The Nanny Fic)
Title: In the Wee Small Hours
Summary: A late night conversation reveals a softer side to C.C.
Rating: G, for now. Might go up in later parts.
Author’s Note: This came to me, and I decided to run with it. There will be more parts, yes.
I checked it through with Grammarly, so it sounds okay, tell me if it doesn’t 😘Feedback/likes are so appreciated. Will also be posted to AO3.
It wasn’t unusual for C.C. to stay at the mansion, sometimes the endless revisions to plays and productions ate up her time and it was too late to head back to her apartment which truthfully, she preferred, her apartment was so cold and sterile compared to the Sheffield’s home; it was warm, and the fridge was always stocked with goodies and alcohol, what more could a person want?
The house was quiet, the family has gone to be hours ago. In her early days of staying over, C.C. entertained the idea of sneaking into Maxwell’s bedroom and offering herself to him, but she could imagine how that would go down, rejection and never-ending ridicule from Niles if she failed. She wouldn’t be able to show her face again. Getting the ice cream out of the fridge she leaned on the counter, taking a few mouthfuls.
She heard soft footsteps come down the stairs and hoped that it wasn’t Nanny Fine, she did not want to put up with that woman right now. C.C. looked over, surprised to see that it was in fact Brighton coming down the stairs. She didn’t have a lot of contact with the children, she preferred it that way, but the boy looked unsettled, she supposed she could try talking to him.
“You’re up late. Everything all right?”
Brighton shrugged as he went to get a glass of milk, an important date was coming up that the rest of the family had either chosen to ignore or had forgotten about but not him, and it had been playing on his mind.
C.C. wondered what it was that had put him in such a melancholy mood, a test at school perhaps? Bullies? A girl? As she observed him, she couldn’t help but notice how much he resembled his mother; Maxwell often said as such about the girls, but C.C. thought it truer of him. She glanced over at the calendar and suddenly understood what was vexing him.
“Ah, Sara’s birthday.” She’d been too involved in work to notice the date was fast approaching. It wasn’t something the family celebrated; Maxwell always tried to distract the kids with some activity to do that day so they wouldn’t be sad and while it worked, C.C. could tell it wouldn’t this time.
“You were friends, right? You don’t talk about her.”
“Your father thought it would be easier for you and your sisters if we didn’t.” She took a seat next to Brighton. “But I miss her every day, I still expect her to be here when I walk in.” C.C. smiled sadly.
“When her birthday comes around, I try to do everything that we would have done together; get coffee, go to the theatre, come back and annoy Niles while he’s cooking.” She chuckled; that was one tradition she kept alive daily. “Then I go to the cemetery and place flowers on her grave.”
“Thank you,” Brighton answered, he hadn’t been to their mother’s grave in years, and it never felt like the right time to ask. It was nice to know that Miss Babcock kept the woman in her memory. “I just wish I remembered more about her,” Brighton said solemnly; his memory had gaps and while they had home videos, it wasn’t the same.
“You get your cocky attitude from her,” C.C. commented, while Maxwell would claim otherwise, C.C. knew that Sara was the real comedian; One time she had even suggested that Niles was in love with her, C.C. Babcock, the very idea. “And you have her smile.”
“Do you think I can come with you when you go to the cemetery? I just want to see her, I guess.” Brighton knew she wasn’t there, that it was just bones and a piece of stone that commemorated who his mother had been, but he wanted to visit.
“Perhaps if you decide to take a sudden interest in the theatre on that day, something can be arranged.” C.C. could always use a gopher and then let him walk in Sara’s footsteps.
“I can probably go to sleep now. Thanks, Miss Babcock.”
“Don’t tell anyone about this all right? I’ve got a reputation to protect.” It cannot be known that she was nice to a child, she would never work in this town again.
Brighton washed out his cup and put it in the dishwasher. “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight, Brighton.” She smiled and went back to her ice cream.
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In another part of the house, Niles had been privy to the entire conversation having figured out long ago how to keep the kitchen intercom on, finding it helpful to keep him abreast of goings on. When he heard Miss Babcock address Brighton, he thought perhaps he should intervene should the witch try to cook him in the oven but something out of the ordinary happened; the ice queen ended up having a civil conversation with the boy, one where they had seemingly planned to celebrate the late Mrs Sheffield’s birthday together.
Niles had to wonder if the real Miss Babcock had been taken by pod people with a copy put in her place because there would be no way that she would willingly spend time with one of Maxwell’s children. He needed to find out what her angle was.
When he got to the kitchen, C.C. was rummaging through the fridge, Nile took a moment to take in her outfit; white silk pyjamas with a matching long robe, very different from what Miss Fine wore but classy, Niles expected no less. He moved quietly until he was behind her, then spoke. “What are you up to, witch?”
The voice was unexpected, and it caused C.C. to jump, almost dropping the cake she had retrieved from the fridge. She glared at Niles and put it over on the counter. “Eating cake? What, did you have a bad dream or something?”
“Mm yes, it was quite horrifying. I dreamt you were a decent person.”
C.C. smirked as she cut into the cake. “That doesn’t sound like me. What was I doing? Feeding the poor? Giving away my money?”
“Comforting a child.”
Her eyes snapped to Niles’, his words were too much of a coincidence for him to come up with such a thing on his own, he must have had the kitchen bugged or something.
it was a thrill watching the heiress so unnerved. “You put so much effort into pretending you don’t care but deep down you do have a heart. You even remembered Brighton’s name.”
Of course, C.C. knew Brighton’s name, she was his godmother after all, but it was one of those titles that had been lost over time due to Sara’s passing.
“You’ll be telling Mr Sheffield about your plans, yes? Should bring your brownie points up to one.” Not that he kept a chart, but Miss Babcock would have to put in extra effort if she was going to catch up to Miss Fine.
C.C. glared at him; did he really think her to be so shallow as to use her friend’s death to get in Maxwell’s good books? “Okay servant, what is your silence going to cost? Name your price.” C.C. regretted her words immediately, who knew what the butler would want in return, or how long he would hold it over her?
Niles smiled devilishly, having the producer in his debt had several interesting possibilities. “A decision such as this should not be made lightly, like a fine wine it needs to be savoured.”
God, he was pretentious. “Well, I’m going to bed, some of us work early.” C.C. made her way back up to her room, going over in her head what Niles could ask for. He could be crafty, but a Babcock’s word was their bond, C.C. would have to honour it, whatever it was.
It couldn’t be that bad, right?
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